


to be the very best

by vvingblade



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Batfamily (DCU), How Do I Tag, M/M, Pokemon Are Real, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvingblade/pseuds/vvingblade
Summary: Timothy never considered the idea of being a Pokemon partner in his entire short life. Janet Drake hates them, and Jack Drake doesn't seem to care. So while he loves them, envies them, Timothy never thought to bring one into his life.That is, until Noibat.Suddenly Tim is thrown in the life of a Pokemon Trainer that he never expected, and one he's entirely unprepared for. Every Trainer has to start somewhere right?
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE ALL THE POKEMON/BATMAN CROSS OVER FICS YALL. I LOVE THEM. I HAD TO CONTRIBUTE.

Janet Drake hates Pokemon.

This is a fact Timothy Jackson Drake has come to terms with early in his childhood.

He knows this because one of his earliest memories is sitting in his mother's lap, staring out into their immacute garden as she gently stroked his hair and spoke to him in low, soothing tones. He remembers how pretty the early morning light made everything look, and how cute the robins splashing about in the birdbath were. He remembers that at the same time he realized one of the robins was actually a Fletchling, his mother stiffened, and mumbled something about getting the gardeners to re-apply the repellant to the garden's perimeter.

He knows this because his mother makes a point of telling him how dirty and dangerous Pokemon are, and how he shouldn't approach them, how he shouldn't mix himself in with the sort of people who see them as their _partners_. How she looked down her nose at a man walking with a Zigzagoon perched on his shoulder. How she bemoaned that Gotham was making a mistake, not exterminating the dangerous Pokemon in a city riddled with crime.

He knows this because Jack Drake has told Tim the story of his grandfather, Janet's father, who was taken from her too early by a rampaging Kangaskhan.

So he knows that Janet Drake hates Pokemon and views them as dangerous vermin, worth less than sewer rats. And Jack Drake seems to have no opinion one way or the other, and simply sees the aninals mutated by the meta gene as 'strange little creatures'. And as such, Timothy Jackson Drake is expected to hold the same views and care for Pokemon as little as his parents and most of Gotham high society do.

Which is where the problem lies.

Because Timothy Jackson Drake doesn't _like_ Pokemon.

He _loves_ them.

He remembers his excitement when he saw the Fletching splashing and playing with it's more mundane cousins, because Pokemon seemed to so rarely wander onto the estate grounds. He remembers thinking that while yes, some Pokemon could breathe fire and punch through mountains and fly faster than jet planes, almost all of them were intellegent enough to be _kind,_ and posed very little threat to humans. And while he felt bad immediately after thinking it, he can only think that maybe Liam Hartfield did something to the Kangaskan, because the maternal Pokemon was _known_ for it's benevolent nature.

So because he's expected to dislike Pokemon as much as the next Gotham blueblood, while with his parents Timothy tips his nose up at the people who walk with their Pokemon just as Janet Drake does. He ignores the Pokemon that fly and walk and scamper about Gotham streets and parks. He bemoans the Gotham's lack of directness towards the 'Pokemon threat', which makes Janet smile with prise. 

But as soon as his parent's plane takes off for Peru or Bolvia or Sweden or wherever their travels take them next, Tim finds himself with his nose buried in an encyclopedia about Pokemon, reading online articles about the new Pokemon discovered, and watching Gothamites on television walk down the streets with their Pokemon partners with no small amount of jealousy. Sometimes he pretends that his stuffed bear is actually a Stufful in disguise, and that he too has joined the masses in welcoming a Pokemon into his home, into his life.

But he doesn't dare entertain the thought of _actually_ owning a Pokemon. Even with how often his parent leave him alone to an empty mansion and a string of caretakers, Timothy knows that somehow, his parents would find out. They seem to find out _everything._

But that doesn't stop Timothy from wanting and wishing.

___________

There's an odd noise coming from the bushes outside his window, and it wakes him up from his doze.

'Outside his window' is a bit of a stretch, considering his room is on the third floor and the bushes are on the ground, and the only thing between them is a large oak tree with branches that brush Timothy's window. But he can hear the soft rustle-crack of the bushes below, and a soft keening noise coming from it's foliage.

(And leaving his window cracked open is another thing he's not supposed to do, but his parents don't use AC on the entire house when it's only Timothy there. So he cracks his window for just a few minutes at a time to get some air into his stuffy room.)

Carefully, Timothy creeps out of bed and to his window, cracking it open just a little bit more. The odd keening noise is a bit louder with his window open, but he still can't see what's making the noise. It sounds like an animal. _Maybe_ _it's_ _hurt?_

Timothy frowns. He's always had a soft spot for animals, and while he's sure there isn't much he could do for an injured racoon or rabbit or bat, he can still maybe call Animal Control. They would come and take care of it, he thinks. But what if it tries to run? Or gets angry? Tries to bite him? Timothy waffles a little bit on his choice- until the thing in the bushes makes a noise so hurt and pitiful that all his worries fly out of him in favor of go _help!!!_

So he gets out of bed, down the long empty hallway, and makes for the stairs. He currently has no night nanny, as his current one, Majorie, leaves at 9pm every day and returns at 9am. And it's already nearing midnight, so there's nobody to watch out for.

He scampers down the stairs and out the door in short order, forgetting to even grab his shoes in his haste. But he does have the presence of mind to at least grab a sizeable stick. That way, he wouldn't have to get too close to touch whatever was hurt in the bushes. As he creeps closer to the bush, the noise gets louder and louder and sounds...surprisingly like sniffling. Like _crying._

Racoons don't cry.

A brief thrill of fear of it being a baby shoots through his heart. How would a baby have gotten in his bushes? Who does he call to collect a baby? Before panic can settle in, Timothy reminds himself that there's no way a baby could have made it alone on the Drake Estate, and to stop being silly. He's not a little kid, he's _7,_ and therefore beyond thinking such silly things. Or so his mother would remind him.

So he collects his resolve and reaches out with his stick, using it to gently part the bushes enough that he can see what's making the noise. He apparently startles it, because it squaks and tumbles out of the bushes in a graceless ball. Timothy shrieks in surprise, dancing back a few steps, wildly thrashing his stick. After a few seconds, when nothing tries to set him on fire or curse him for a thousand years, Timothy opens his eyes and peeks at the bushes. He looks over what just tumbled from the bushes, and immediately his heart rate kicks up a few paces.

It's definitely not a racoon.

It's a _Pokemon._

Timothy stares with his mouth agape as the Pokemon frantically scrambles backwards, golden eyes large with fear, entire body shaking. It squeaks and places its little paws over its eyes, curling into a trembling little ball.

Timothy prides himself on his Pokemon knowledge, even though he doesnt have anybody to share that knowledge with- but he has no idea what Pokemon this is.

It looks like a fuzzy little bat. It's ears are huge, almost like the speakers in the conference halls his parents give lectures to, when he's been good and is allowed to come and watch. It's torso and waist are covered in fur, leaving little legs with tiny toes poking out. It's wings, one a little scratched up, are connected to it's tiny little hands, which it's using to ineffectively cover it's large eyes. It has a little bat like nose too.

He's not sure what to do about it. He doesn't think Animal Control handles Pokemon yet- the Ranger Force handles Pokemon. But it's so scared, so afraid- of Timothy. Like Timothy is gonna hurt it. It's making a noise very similiar to crying, and Timothy can see tears starting to slip down it's little face. His heart breaks.

Timothy drops to his knees, abandoning his stick. He holds out a hand and makes a soft clicking nose he's heard some Gothamites use to call to both pets and Pokemon.

"Hey there, little guy," he tries, keeping his voice soft. "I won't hurt you. It's ok, it's ok, I promise."

It would seem silly to talk to an animal like this, but Tim has done his research and knows that most Pokemon are intelligent, and understand human language. The tiny Pokemon cracks a large golden eye open, still curled into a little ball, still shaking and crying, and definently not coming any closer. It's not much progress. But it is progress. Tim tries a little harder.

"I'm sorry I scared you. I thought you were a racoon. Or a baby! Well, not a baby but- I heard you from my room. I just wanna help you."

The tiny bat opens it's other eye. It's shaking, though not as badly as before. Now it's just hicupping pitifully.

"Your wing looks like it hurts. Is it ok if I help? I got one of those potions things from a giveaway in a store once. Mom told me to throw it away, but I hid it in my backpack. It'll make your wing feel better." Tim's not totally sure how potions work, and why they only work on Pokemon, but he kept it anyways.

The tiny bat unfurls itself, peering at him curiously. It's not crying now, just sniffling, rubbing at one eye with it's little paw. The other it's holding a bit awkwardly.

Timothy smiles encouragingly. "Can I help you? I promise I wont hurt you. I just want your wing to feel better."

The Pokemon eyes him with large wary yellow eyes, before getting up. It slowly totters closer with his head ducked down. When it's close enough, Timothy gently strokes it's head. It flinches at first- then chirps softly and leans into it. It comes ever closer, letting Timothy scoop it up into his arms.

It's so little, and so cold. He can see more scratches on it's back too- all shallow, but probably painful. The little bat grips his shirt in it's paws and whines, burying it's face into his chest. Timothy gently rubs its back.  
"It's ok. I'll help you, I promise."

And he scampers back inside with his little cold acquisition.

___________

One spritz of green liquid is all it takes to close up the shallow cuts and scratches on the bat's wing and back, and apparently cements it's trust in Timothy, as it perches itself on his shoulder and refuses to be dislodged for any reason. Not that he minds- it alternates before nuzzling his cheek gratefully and nibbling his ear affectionately. Timothy isn't too worried. It'll probably leave before sunrise, and Marjorie doesn't come in until nine anyways. Instead, he does some research on his new friend.

The Pokemon is called Noibat, and it's not exactly native to Gotham. Some have been spotted in Gotham, but more are released by temperamental owners who no longer want the bat. Timothy reads up on the scarce information on the little bat Pokemon as he takes it downstairs with him. He reads more as he cuts up an apple and passes a slice to his new friend, who chirps loudly with delight and tucks in.

The article also notes they have no idea what it evolves into. There are theories, sure, but nobody knows for certain. It doesn't seem to evolve naturally in the wild, and in captivity it simply never seemed to want to.

Timothy hums softly. It's a shame there's no more information on his new bat friend, who is now dozing softly with it's head pillowed on Timothy's neck. He shrugs and goes upstairs, Noibat curled up around his shoulders, and gently sets it near his window so that when it wakes, it can fly back home- wherever that is. It doesn't even stir. He smiles at it. He likes the Noibat, alot, and will be sad to see it go, even if they only knew one another for a hour at most. It was nice to have a Pokemon friend.

Timothy retreats to his bed, getting underneath his covers and nuzzling into his blankets. When he dreams, he dreams hazy dreams of being a trainer, his Noibat on his shoulder.

___________

Timothy wakes to the sound of Marjorie coming into the estate when she shuts the heavy mahogany doors. It's a Saturday, which means no school, otherwise he'd been up already. He hears her coming towards his room, no doubt to check on him, if not wake him. He starts to untangle himself to greet her-

And dislodges a little furry bat, that squeaks with annoyance and promply nuzzles right back up to Timothy.

The Noibat.

It didn't leave.

Oh no. Oh no no _no_.

Marjorie has a Pokemon herself- she told him so, an old Lopunny she's had her whole life- but she knows Janet doesn allow them to step foot onto Drake estate, and Marjorie never brings Clover with her. If she sees the bat, she call his _parents,_ and they'll be so upset and they'll end their trip early- or stay away even longer. He's not sure which is worse. He can hear Marjorie coming close to his door. Before she can open it, he frantically bundles the little bat in a blanket, muffling it's tiny shrieks, and rolls over onto it. As the door creaks open, he forces his body to relax and breathes evenly and deeply.

He hears her sigh, murmur something about being glad hes still resting for once, and the door closes. He doesn't move until he hears the telltale sounds of Marjorie heading back downstairs to make breakfast.

Timothy sighs, before rolling back over and releasing his little captive. It squeaks angrily as soon as Timothy sets it free, smacking him with it's wings in retaliation. He wins back its favor with apologies and a scratch under its chin, something it seems to like.

He scoops his friend up and carries it back to the open window, setting it on the sill.

"Your wing is better. You can go home now."

It stares back at him. Timothy gestures to the world outside, now lit by the early morning sun.

"Fly home now, Noibat. Isn't your family worried?"

It tilts its head.

"Go back where you belong," he tries instead. It squeaks, and awkwardly hops over, trying to flutter flap over to his shoulder. It can hardly fly, and definitely not well enough to make any real progress anywhere. Tim sighs and scoop it up, when he clambers to sit on his shoulder. It sighs happily as it clings there.

Maybe it's a baby. Timothy read in a news article that baby Pokemon will imprint in the first person it meets after it hatches. But it's not a hatchling, he doesn't think. Just small and young. But its definently attached to him.

So.

He has a Pokemon.

What the heck does he do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets a Noibat bc Noivern is literally a bat dragon and you can't tell me that doesn't suit him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets his hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seemed to really dig this, so I banged out a Chapter 2 for you guys!

Tim is eleven when a new Robin flies over Gotham.

Less attentive Gothamites may have not noticed that it's a new Robin wearing the iconic tunic and hot pants, but Tim has been following Robin since he was nine years old. Since he watched Robin perform a quadruple flip between two buildings and put two and two together, that if Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons must be Robin, therefore Bruce Wayne must be Batman. Since he started taking to the streets in the night to follow them with nothing but a camera, a police scanner app on his phone, his wits, and the stars in his eyes.

And, of course, a clever little Noibat.

So of course he notices when it's no longer Dick Grayson wearing the tunic. Tim considers himself one of the biggest fans of the big bat and his bird, so of course by extension he keeps tabs on the Wayne's. Most of the city does, to be fair.

So he definitely noticed when Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Tood.

Jason is a different Robin than Dick in almost every area that matters. Where Dick's grins were vibrant and playful, Jason's are challenging and cocky. Where Dick was graceful and lithe, Jason is sturdy and broad. Where Dick was an acrobat, trained and skills honed, Tim _knows_ Jason had to train hard to maintain the abilities Robin needs to keep up with Batman.

Jason as Robin is the ideology that anybody can wear the cape and make a difference. Dick was Bruce's Robin, but Jason is Gotham's. Jason is _Tim's_ , and while Tim will never lose the admiration for the last of the Flying Graysons, for _Nightwing_ , Robin is definitely his favorite photo subject.

Either way, he's crouched in the shadows on a fire escape of an apartment complex on 6th in the Narrows. He's dressed in all black winter gear to keep himself warm as he waits for Robin to come soaring by- he knows this is part of his patrol route, and his police scanner hasn't reported any other major crimes going on that would cause one half of the dynamic duo to go off route.

His loyal Noibat, dubbed Forte for the musical pun he couldn't resist, is all bundled up into his jacket with only her little head peeking out. She doesn't do too well with the cold, but insists on coming with him every night he makes for Gotham's streets anyways, no matter how cold. Tim is grateful for that, because she's very useful. Her big ears work like sonar, and she's always quick to let Tim know when Batman or Robin are close by, or when she senses something unexpected coming towards them. Tim is small and quick and usually is able to hide from people. Other times Tim will use the silver tongue Janet left him to talk his way out of a sticky situation. But if he's found, or things get physical, Forte has uses beyond being a radar. Her big ears can produce powerful sonic waves, enough to bring even a full grown man or Pokemon to their knees. Lucky enough for Tim, most basic thugs were quick to scamper once they realized he was carrying a Pokemon with him, assuming him to be a Trainer. It doesn't help that despite being small, Forte is _feisty_ , and gets rather aggressive when others attempt to harass him.

Forte still isn't _his_ , per say. He never caught her in a Pokeball proper. Tim isn't stupid, and he knows there's no way he'd be able to hide owning an entire Pokemon from his parents for very long. But she's incredibly attached to him, and had been since he first used a Potion on her wing years ago. Instead, she lives in the oak tree right outside his room, in the hollow space Tim had painstakingly carved out for her while balancing precariously on the tree's branches. On the rare occasions his parents were home, the tree was his primary way of sneaking out when he went to grab his photos of Gotham's dynamic duo. Of course Noibat noticed when he went clambering through her tree to shimmy down the trunk to the ground.

The Noibat in question sneezes, and makes a tiny pitiful noise. Tim stokes her head, between her ears, and then scratches under her chin. Forte gives him a little pout, making her eyes go as big as they can as she _chirrs_ softly. Tim snorts- he's (mostly) immune to his little bat's puppy eyes by now.

"I know, I know, it's real cold. Just a little longer. Robin's patrol route ends around here before he loops back, and once I get a few shots we'll go home. Promise."

He leans back to rummage in his camera bag. It's not a big bag, so he only keeps small essentials in the pockets that aren't taken up by various lenses and straps. One side pocket is reserved for the berries he keeps especially for Forte, and another for his thermos of coffee he keeps on hand when he goes out on a school night. (Any other night it held tea.)  
It's enough of a bribe that she falls silent as she nibbles her berry, and Tim takes a long sip from his thermos.

"Mom and Dad are coming home next week," he reminds his little bat as he puts his thermos back. "So you're gonna have to sleep in your tree and be real quiet."

She snuffles delicately, tipping her little chin up. When his parents are away, she's allowed to sleep in his bed. (His new housekeeper and nanny, Ms. Mac, is more than aware of Forte. She promised to help him keep the secret, as she had a son of her own that was currently on a research tour to become a Pokemon professor. )

Tim placates his huffy little bat with another chin scratch. "I know, I know. I'll insulate it with your favorite blanket, ok? You know Mom would get rid of you if they knew. They won't stay long this time. They have another dig just two weeks later in Bolivia. And then you can come back inside."

Forte huffs softly, before suddenly going stiff. Her ears twist to the side and twitch rapidly. She chirps several times- their signal for a cape passing through. Tim jumps to attention, scrambling to the edge of the fire escape with his camera clutched in hand.  
Right as he lifts his camera, he watches Robin soar over the rooftops, his cape flaring behind him against the backdrop of the moon. Tim gets picture after picture, then lowers the camera to take it in with his naked eye and an awestruck expression. Robin lands on the opposite roof, looking over the Narrows with a hand on his hip. Tim snaps a few more pictures.

Forte wiggles free from his jacket to swat at his camera, clearly deciding that a few pictures had in fact been taken, and it was time to go home. Tim almost considers ignoring her, but he knows better. Forte isn't above nipping him to get him to keep to his promises. Also, she's gotta be cold.

"One more? Just the one, I promise."

Forte eyes him, before huffing and perching on the railing to wait for her Trainer. Tim leans over and kisses her forehead. As always, Forte _chirps_ and flushes, covering the spot he kissed with her little paws.

Tim lines up his camera to grab one last shot, fiddling with the settings to make sure his last one is perfect. To his dismay, however, a noise catches Robin's attention, and he steps off the edge towards the other side, and Tim can't get a good view from his angle. He swears under his breath, leaning out further onto the railing to try and catch Robin's figure over the lip of the building.

The only warning he gets is an ominous _creak_.

The railing suddenly snaps and collapses under Tim's weight. The sudden lack of support pitches Tim into the gap, and off the fire escape. Tim cries out as he goes over. His camera slips from his grip, and he watches with his heart in his throat as it goes careening to the street below, destroyed on impact. Forte _shrieks_ , leaping off the fire escape. She snags his pants leg in her teeth and frantically flaps, but she's too small agaisnt the face of gravity and hardly slows his descent. He's ripped away from her. She's shrieking and squawking as she follows, frantic and fearful and Tim feels horrible about that in a distant, hazy way. Instead, Tim's mind is racing, and not a lick of it is helpful.

_I should have been more careful, I should have been more careful_ _, I_ _should_ _have_ _been_ _more_ _careful!!_ _I'm going to end up as street pizza_ _! W_ _ho's going_ _to_ _take care of Forte? What will happen to Ms. Mac? Mom and Dad will be so mad... I should have been more careful!!! Forte, Mom,_ _Dad, Ms. Mac,_ _I'm_ _so_ _sorry--!_

Another shriek reaches his ears that he assumes is Forte, and braces himself for the inevitable collision with the pavement. What happens instead is a firm grip on his shoulder, what feels like claws, and he's being wreched _up._ Before he can register what's happening, he's suddenly colliding with something- but it's thankfully not the pavement. Instead it's something warm but firm, gripping him tight, and his momentum changes as he swings. Tim manages to wrench open one eye.

His vision is full of yellow and red, but a yellow and red he recognizes intimately. His breath catches in his throat, and he makes a strangled noise. Robin must notice, because his grip loosens just a bit as they grapple to the top of the building. Robin sets him down carefully. Tim staggers away on unsteady feet, but can't take his eyes off the hero standing before him. Robin- _Jason-_ reaches out tentatively to steady him if needed. Tim gapes open mouthed at him, stammering and sputtering in an attempt to speak. The admiration and awe Tim would have felt at being so close to Robin, his _h_ _ero,_ is swallowed by the jackrabbit-fast pace of his still thudding heart.

"Hey, hey, yer ok kid," and Jason's Bowery accent comes through clear as he holds his hands up, palms open, in a pretty universal _not a_ _threat_ position. "Ya almost took a nasty tumble there, yeah? Feelin' alright?"

Tim's brain finally catches up with the whole _not_ _dead_ thing, and he sputters out a thank you as he wrings his hands. Jason grins, easy and relieved.

"Yer real lucky. Nice little Murkrow over here caught ya just long enough to give me some time to get ta' ya." He gestures to the Murkrow sitting easily on the rooftop edge. Tim knows it's no random Murkrow- Jason Todd's _partner_ is a Murkrow. But the Pokemon squaks and flies off into the night.

Tim swallows the lump in his throat, only for it to fly right back into the same position as he realizes his _own_ partner is missing. He spins around frantically.

"F-Forte! Where's Forte?!"

Jason's brow furrows. "Whasa Forte?"

"She's- she's my _friend,_ she's my Pokemon, is she ok-"

He hears the flurry of wings before he sees the flash of purple that is Forte flying into him with the strength of a small _truck._ Jason manages to step to the side fast enough to just barely avoid the little fuzzy bat missile. She barrels directly into his chest and _clings_ there. Tim immediately gathers her in his arms, hugging her close to him. He can hear her hiccuping and sniffling, and he kisses her head.

"I'm ok, I'm ok," he soothes, trying to dry his Noibat's tears. She just clings tighter, letting out a pitiful noise. Tim squeezes her tight. Jason hums softly.

"Ain't never seen that kinda 'mon around here. Speaking o' which, whaddya doin' so high up and so late? You got some people I can take you to?"

That alone is enough to send ice water into Tim's veins. Noibats aren't native to Gotham- Forte sticks out like a sore thumb to another born and bred Gothamite. Most people don't get a good look at her when she's bundled in Tim's coat, and while nobody knows Tim Drake has a Noibat- or a Pokemon at all- it'll definently come out if he let's Jason take him home. His _parents_ will find out.

"N-No, I'm ok! I-I have to go, b-but thank you Robin!" He stammers, backing away with Forte clutched close. "I-I'm just gonna walk home." While he knows his full winter outfit was out of place in the Narrows, his camera back looks like a basic backpack, and his camera-

His beloved camera lay in pieces in the alleyway between the two buildings.

Tim swallows down the sudden and powerful wave of sadness and forces a wobbly smile back on his face. He wants more than anything to go to the wreckage, salvage what he can, but he knows better than to associate himself with the expensive remains on the ground below. It would raise far too many questions. And there's no point trying to come back for it. It's more likely that if anything survived, such as the lens, it would be taken before Tim could return for it the following night.

 _Thank_ _goodness I_ _made_ _the_ _switch_ _to_ _digital._ At least that way, nobody would be privy to the pictures he'd taken that night.

Jason shrugs lightly. He's _from_ the Narrows, so maybe he assumes it better to not ask. Instead, he flashes Tim a crooked grin.

"Sure thing kid. Ya want a ride back down to ground level? Much safer than the way yer were _goin_ ' down, I promise."

The hero worship and admiration that had been lost under the fear raises it's head full force, and Tim almost bites his tongue off nodding so fast. Jason opens an arm. Tim shuffles close, awkwardly positioning himself and his Pokemon so that he doesn't crush her. She doesn't let go, but is convinced to at least move to his collarbone. If Jason is curious as to why he doesn't just return Forte to her ball he doesn't ask. Instead he smiles his Robin smile, and Tim is dazzled.

"Alright! Down we go!"

And they're _flying._

Without the threat of imminent death to worry over, Tim is allowed to apperciate the weightlessness of the swing, the sure and steady way Jason- _Robin-_ moves his body with it, controlling their momentum. Tim let's out a breathless little giggle. It's only a few seconds before they touch down, and Tim backs away as soon as Robin let's go.

"Thank you, Robin," Tim breathes, cheeks flushed. Robin just grins and sets a hand on his hip.

"Just doin' my job. You stay safe goin' home, now. 's real late for a lil thing like you, and the streets are dangerous."

"I will. T-thanks again!!"

Before Robin can say anything else, Tim rushed off into the dark, rounding a building and hopefully out of Robin's view. He makes three long elliptical treks around the Narrows until he's sure neither Robin nor the Bat are following him before he finally makes his way to the bus, Forte hidden in his coat.

He makes it home after a long series of buses and _much_ later than he usually makes it home, with the sun threatening to peek beyond the horizion. He climbs up his tree to his window a bit clumsily, his limbs still shaking a bit even so much later. He doesn't try to convince Forte to go to her tree- just collapses in bed wrapped around her. She's not crying anymore, at least.

"I owe you _so_ many Poketreats," he whispers to his Noibat. She chirps softly. Tim kisses the top of her head. "Thank you for trying to save me."

He cuddles Noibat close, and drifts off to dreams of Robin and Batman, silhouetted against the moon.

_____________________

Jason only waits long enough to watch the kid go off past the apartments to drop down into the alleyway, over the wreckage of what appears to have once been a _very_ expensive camera. He's not dumb- Anthea warned him of his little shadow just before he swung onto that rooftop. Maybe he let it go on too long. The kid was clearly enamored, and Jason was reveling a bit in being the hero- even if only on the tailends of _Dick's_ legacy.

But he didn't know the kid had a _camera._ Alongside the weird bat Pokemon, and the expensive winter gear nobody here could afford, he clearly _ain't_ from the Narrows. It's a bit suspicious. Even if the kid looked as threatening as a box full of kittens. Just as cute, too.

As he crouches to inspect the remains, Anthea soars in to land on his shoulder with a _"_ _crow"._ Jason reaches up to absentmindedly pet her feathers.

"Ya did good, girl," he praises, soft and low. Robin doesn't have a Pokemon, so he tries to keep Anthea far from him when he patrols. After all, it was common knowledge that Jason Todd- Jason _Wayne_ now, he guesses- has a Murkrow as his Pokemon. It would be too easy to put two and two together. She nuzzles his cheek before taking off once more.

Jason scrapes aside the plastic and glass, picking it apart until he has the SD card in his grip. It's a little banged up, but he doubts it can't be salvaged. As he slips it into his belt, he taps the comm in his ear.

"Robin," B's gruff voice greets him.

"Yeah, Bats? I got somethin' we might need to be lookin' into."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Kudos and comments keep the writing spirit alive, and trust me I read and love and greatly appreciate them all!!


End file.
